


Trust Me To Take You Home

by Morrigan2345



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/M, Karen POV, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigan2345/pseuds/Morrigan2345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's complicated, she's fine with it, but it's complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me To Take You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Frank's obviously beat up... like he is for 97% of the show..
> 
> This was mostly an excuse for me to write porn bc hot damn.
> 
> Also maybe feels in that beginning part.
> 
> All spelling and grammatical errors are mine! Sorry!

She’s fine with this set up between them, honestly.

What they have, him showing up at random intervals, bruised and battered, and crushing her to him, kissing her with a force she’s never felt before. A desperate sort of pleading she doesn’t want to look into too much.  Him leaving in the mornings, but never before she goes to work though, he walks her down and drops her off at the bus stop before he leaves every time he visits.  Like one of those proper gentlemen her mother would love to talk about from time to time, making a younger Karen blush and her father grumble, even though she doesn’t think having sex and leaving every morning afterwards would count as gentlemanly.  

She never knows when he’ll come back anyway, but she knows he will eventually, in the end.

It’s not love, but it’s gentle, and brutal, and everything else she wants at this point.

This time when he knocks on her door she’s just came back from work and when she opens up she can see more bruises than face.  She ushers him in, pushing him into a seat at her kitchen table, “Jesus Frank.” She mutters and he grunts at her before she turns to her fridge, “Peas or corn?” she asks turning back to him.

He snorts but winces slightly, “Peas.” He says and she hands the cold vegetables to him, he presses them to his face and avoids her eyes.  She sighs and leaves him in the kitchen for a few minutes by himself, coming back with a slightly damp cloth, “You have blood all over your face.” She says when he raises and eyebrow.

“Mmh.” He turns to her and takes the peas from his face, his eyes are clear and sharp even if they’re slightly hooded from the swelling.

She walks over to him and places a gentle hand over the parts where his skin isn’t red and irritated, she swipes the pads of her fingers over his face and his eyes close.  His shoulders drop a fraction and she’ll always feel the thrill of having The Punisher think of her as someone trustful, someone who’s safe enough for him to relax, even just slightly.  She dabs the cloth to his face with soft, but firm strokes, he has no cuts on his face but the bruising is as bad as it was when they first talked.

The silence isn’t as tense as she would have assumed considering the circumstance, but it usually isn’t with him, he’s just sitting there, letting her wipe away someone else's blood off of his face. 

Her hands aren’t shaking but somehow he can still tell how she’s feeling, his big hand wraps around her wrist loosely and his eyes open to look up at her, “You don’t have to do this, the washroom’s over there.  Or I could leave.” He says, gruff, but it’s quiet, she huffs out a breath and uses the other side of the towel.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Not stupid,” he mutters and a reluctant smile appears on her face, “just don’t want you to be-“ he stops, and she drops her eyes to his.

“Want me to be what?”

“Uncomfortable.” He says, uncomfortably.  Which, frankly, is sweet, but she still laughs disbelievingly.   

“Why would you make me uncomfortable?” He actually makes her feel the opposite, but she keeps that to herself as he struggles to answer.

“With my-“ he stumbles over his words and waves his hand around slowly, indicating his face and the bloody rag, “everything.” He finishes, squinting his eyes trying to mask whatever emotion he may or may not be feeling.

“I’ve kind of accepted your everything already Frank.” She says confused, shaking the towel in front of his face, but he just continues to look at her.  She sighs and goes back to wiping his face, “You want me to be honest?” she asks, and doesn’t know what she wants his answer to be, all she knows is that whatever this thing between them is, it will undoubtedly change by the end of this conversation.

He answers her anyway, “Yes.” He says simply and she finishes up with the blood and drops the rag on the floor, she’ll clean it up later.  Her hands find their way to where his neck meets his shoulder and she caresses the taut skin there, “So stressed.” She mumbles, and retracts her hand.  She sits down on the chair next to him.

“Comes with the job.” He says lightly and she licks her lips nervously.

“Yeah.” She says, and all the words she wants to say get stuck in her throat, no matter how much she trusts him she’s still her and emotions have always been hard.

“Karen.” He prompts gently, and she catches her hair in between her fingers.

“Sometimes I try and forget.  About you, about the whole situation.  About me.” she says, she’s not looking at him but she feels him tense a little bit, “I mean, I don’t forget it’s _you_ when we’re together.  I just try to forget the fact that you kill people on a regular basis.”

He nods his head, “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the only thing that would make me feel uncomfortable, if I ever thought about it instead of blocking that part out that is.” She says and clicks her tongue, “And I know that you won’t ever- _Love_ me, and, honestly, that’s alright.  I've sort of already came to terms with that.” She says haltingly, now determinately not looking at him.  She’s not crying, but he’d see something in her eyes that would complicate everything even further.

“I- I don’t even think I can-“ He stops abruptly and this time she’s composed enough to turn to him, his face is hard to read with all the bruising but she can see his jaw clicking slightly. 

“You might, eventually.  With someone who actually- understands.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want someone else.  You can- _You_ understand, of course I-" he huffs softly, "I don’t even know what you’re talking about”

“I just told you that I don’t even want think about what you do.  I don’t like it.” She says, confused.

“Good, doesn’t matter if you think about it.  At least not to me, especially not to me.  The only thing that matters is that you understand why, and why you accept _me._ ” He says and reaches over to put a calloused hand over her bare knee, after a second her smaller hand covers his softly.

“I understand, I really do.” She says, to him, to herself.

“Then that’s that.” He says finally and takes his hand back.  He stands up and offers his hand down to her, “Come on.”

Her hand slips into his and she squeezes it, he walks her to her room and leads her to her bed.  They stand there together, closely, and his hands run up and down her arms.  “Silk.” He says and she hums in agreement, he slowly unbuttons her shirt, “It’s nice, soft.” She swallows roughly.

Every time they’ve slept together it’s been good, _so_ good, but it was rough and slightly desperate.  Now though, Frank takes his time unbuttoning her shirt, bending down to kiss up and down her neck as he pushes the fabric off of her shoulders.  His mouth is on her jaw and her hands come up to his biceps as his hands travel up and rest around her neck, cradling her head slightly.  He tills her head and her hands move to grasp his shirt as he kisses her soundly, the hands around her head tighten as the seconds pass and he opens his mouth when she swipes her tongue over his lips.

She breaks the kiss and tugs at his shirt, “Off.” she says, and instead of complying his hands move to the back of her bra and unclasps the hooks, his fingers brush over her nipples and she huffs, “Come on,” she wheedles, “your shirt is starting to get annoying.” She says teasingly, and she’d like to say that his smile doesn’t always steal her breath, but she doesn’t care that it does at all at the moment.

“Lie down.” He says and she gladly stretches out on her bed, she catches him pulling the shirt off over his head and then he’s gloriously shirtless and coming to kneel over her slightly.  He kisses her again, sweetly, and she runs her hands over his sturdy shoulders, over the back of his newly shaven head.

Her hands move down to her skirt zipper but he’s already there, even though he’s still just kissing down her neck again, going at a faster speed, “Wanna see you.” He says, and she laughs.

“You’ve seen me before.”

“Slow.” He replies and she’s glad that he’s not looking over at her because there’s probably some sort of mushy expression on her face.

“Alright, slow.” She says and his hum vibrates through her body.  He reclines back onto his heels and his hands feel rough on her exposed sides but they only give off the slightest pressure.  He moves the zipper down quickly but shimmies her out of her skirt inch by inch. Her face heats up as he throws the skirt behind him and rubs the tops of her legs, his eyes roaming over her.  Her mind goes back the fact that he _has_ seen her naked but maybe he hasn’t allowed himself to _really_ look at her. 

With that thought in mind she bites back down complains and lets him touch her knees and thighs, palming at them.  He parts her legs and her fingers twitch, wanting to rip his jeans off, but she rests them on her stomach.  Suddenly he slides off the bed but not before dragging her closer to the edge, she can’t help but make a noise even as he kisses the insides of her thigh, “So impatient.” He mumbles against her skin but before she can say anything he’s sliding off her underwear and running a thumb up her cunt.

Her hips shift and her fingers twitch as he runs _delicate_ fingers over her, “Frank, come on.” She says and tries to chase his fingers as he takes them back.  She’s going to complain again but he swiftly replaces his fingers with his tongue and she could all but cry at the sensation.  She doesn’t know how he works around the bruises but she can’t do anything other then rest her hand limply at her side as the other one clutches at his head trying to find purchase.  His hands are spreading her apart now as he eats her out rougher then before, his coarse stubble scraping at her and her mouth drops open slightly.  Half of his face is covered by her but his eyes are open and he’s watching her with half lidded eyes, a strange sort of determination in them.

She moans, and her legs start to tremble as he moves his fingers over her clit.  His fingers move in agonizingly slow circles and she grabs his wrist to make him move quicker.  He moves his mouth off of her but starts to quicken his movements, “Karen,” he murmurs and her eyes half shut, “ _sweetheart_ , come on.” And she can feel his thick finger press into her slightly making her arch her back, her hips starting to move up and down in quick bursts on his fingers. 

She can feel her stomach and legs tightening up and she opens her eyes forcefully, “Wanna see you.” She repeats his words, and she can see a smile at the edges of his mouth.  His fingers work harder and faster then before and her hips buck up and she tries to muffle the sound that comes out of her mouth but all she can do is clutch desperately at her bed sheets as his fingers keeps pumping in and out, “Frank, shit- _Frank.”_ She pants slightly

“Yeah, yeah, come on, babe.  Come on my fingers, Jesus- _Karen_.” He replies and he sounds so breathless and in _awe_ , she answers with another long moan before she finally, _finally_ , comes apart.

He keeps at it until her whole body is shaking and she has to swat his fingers away.  He laughs and pulls back, standing up and quickly shedding his pants and underwear.  She sits up and tries to make him come to _her_ this time, wanting to do _whatever_ it takes to see him lose control at her fingers or mouth, but when she reaches for him he redirects her hands away and moves her back up the bed.

“Frank, what?” she asks but he just moves her so that they're touching but facing each other.

“Later, that was- I wanted to-“ He opens his mouth and seems stuck on how to proceed but she gets it.  Gets that he wanted to show her that they’re both going to grow, that maybe he’ll allow himself to appreciate the things around him, maybe she’ll come to terms with what she’s chosen.

Which is, most definitely, _him_ , all of him.

“Alright.” She says simply and the crease in his forehead relaxes, she puts a hand (gentle, always gentle) to his face and rubs at his cheekbones, “Alright,” she says again but she’s grinning this time, “but when we wake up I’m paying you back.  Slowly.” He huffs but doesn’t say anything more, just drags her closer.

She can feel his heart, a steady rhythm against her ear. 

They’ll be alright.

When she wakes up in the morning she’ll wake him up slow, with kisses everywhere, and they’ll eat breakfast together.  He’ll walk with her down her apartment stairs and to the bus stop, and maybe come back in a couple of days, bruised and battered, all over again.

They’ll be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4:20 (ha) am im so tired
> 
> thanks for reading, you know the drill.
> 
> (also pet names are my weakness, especially when they're said by men that look like frank castle)
> 
> Title from The Antlers - Putting the dog to sleep (go listen)
> 
> go visit my tumblr if you want a_small_jewel_shard.tumblr.com  
> Edit* got my own url wrong, oops, it's 'a-small-jewel-shard.tumblr.com' whoo who know i was this dumb


End file.
